


Beasts of the Past

by luckbringer



Series: Beasts of the Past Story Arc [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gallifrey, Gen, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2161311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckbringer/pseuds/luckbringer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Clara take a break from their search for Gallifrey to follow a suspicious asteroid heading for Earth...only to be hijacked by an intergalactic pest! But this creature means more to the Doctor than he knows, and he realizes that the universe has begun to move on from the terrible events of the Time War. Should the Doctor be doing the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> August is coming, and with it, arrives the Doctor's twelfth incarnation, played by Peter Capaldi. But before August 23rd rolls around, I've decided to try my hand at writing an episode for the newcomer. Nothing too drastic, just a little adventure that references Gallifrey and adds a brand new creature. (Well, new to the Doctor Who universe, anyway.)
> 
> But first, I think an introduction might be in order, since I've had to create this Doctor with little to no help from the current episodes. For this Fanfic, I've made the twelfth Doctor more hands-on than his previous forms, using his sonic screwdriver less and less. Clara has, for the most part, remained unchanged (though shoot me on the spot if I didn't make a few tweaks to her Moffat-ness). I also chose to not include the newest companion, Danny Pink. Obviously, this Fanfic may prove useless after August, but for now, I hope you enjoy "Beasts of the Past"!

The TARDIS hummed in contentment as her two passengers chatted around the base of her console.

"And then I said, 'What's the name of his other leg?'" One of the travelers, a man, said, and he and his female companion burst out laughing.

"You did not!" She retorted.

"I did! Oh, you should have seen his face." Their laugh subsided to a soft chuckle, and then to a contented silence. The man, who was most commonly known as the Doctor, absently picked at the sleeve of the black velvet coat he wore. His outfit was relatively simple, just a black coat with buttons over a black vest and a white undershirt, all over black pants and black formal shoes. But its simplicity concealed the intricate man beneath, a man still recovering from dark memories of his past.

His companion, Clara Oswin Oswald, wore similar attire. A black sweater barely covered a scarlet tank top, which was further accented by a black skirt, black tights, and black boots. She also had a simple golden chain around her neck, a golden bangle on her wrist, and matching earrings dangling from her earlobes. Her chestnut brown hair hung in loose curls, and she was practically bouncing off the ground with youthful enthusiasm. It was the beginning of a new day on the TARDIS (or however close one came to "day" inside a time machine), and the Doctor had promised that they'd go see a royal space-banquet today.

But then Clara saw that the Doctor was not surpassing her excitement (or even matching it), and she deflated a little. This new Doctor was the same man, and yet, after his last regeneration, it seeming like a part of him had vanished. Namely, the youthful, 2-year-old part. Wavy brown strands of hair had been replaced by grey bristles. Youthful green irises and a smooth complexion had been swapped for hawk-like blue eyes and wrinkles. Clara had enjoyed the few months she had had with the old Doctor, her first Doctor. Now she missed how excited he used to get over the most mundane things, how bouncy and lively he had been…this new Doctor seemed to treat the whole "running" thing like a chore. She stared at the Doctor in front of her and said, "You've changed so much."

The Doctor smiled ruefully and turned to fiddle with the TARDIS controls. "Have I?" he muttered, as if to himself.

They lapsed into silence and Clara looked down as she began to fiddle with her bangles. She hadn't meant to insult him. Clara bit her lip and mentally kicked herself for not thinking before she spoke.

When she looked up again, the Doctor was staring right at her, eyebrows scrunched up like he was contemplating the meaning of the universe. Again. Then Clara began imagining the previous Doctor trying to do the same thing with his non-existent eyebrows, and the image nearly caused her to burst out laughing.

"What?" The Doctor asked, relaxing his face and cocking his head to the side as he regarded Clara's barely suppressed smile. A smile that only grew bigger when she realized just how much this grumpy old Time Lord looked like a bird in that moment.

She smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and quickly replied, "Show me a magic trick."

The Doctor smiled wickedly in reply, when suddenly there was a tremendous crash and the entire TARDIS shook violently. Clara and the Doctor were thrown against the console's handlebars, and remained there until the vibrations calmed. The Doctor quickly grabbed for his ship's controls, both to steady himself and the TARDIS.

Clara slowly regained her footing and gasped for breath. "Some trick!"

"That wasn't me!" The Doctor hastily checked the monitor, and was stunned by what he saw. The TARDIS was still floating in the same space in the universe, but in the distance a dark blob was quickly disappearing. In response to his companion's questioning glance, he said, "It seems we were nearly hit by a flying object."

"Oh, how descriptive!" Clara shot back, before she had to duck to avoid a clump of sparks that suddenly burst from above her. "Now what?"

"We do what we always do," The Doctor replied amiably. But when Clara glanced up at him, she saw that that spark of adventure had found its way back into the Doctor's eyes. "We follow it!" And with that, he grinned like a maniac and yanked a lever.

The TARDIS pitched and heaved as it began to madly pursue the projectile. They nearly lost it as the object somehow found its way into the Time Vortex, but soon both the prey and the predator burst out into empty space.

It was not so empty after all. The Doctor took one look at the monitor to see where they had popped out, and groaned inwardly. "Not again," he muttered, too soft for Clara to hear.

As the flying object entered the nearby planet's atmosphere, the Doctor rushed to the other side of the TARDIS and began the materializing cycle.

The ship appeared in the middle of a circle of grass and shrubs on Earth, surrounded by thick green trees. But even after the TARDIS finished materializing, the Doctor put his hand out to hold Clara back from the entrance. "Wait for it…" he growled.

Protected as they were in the TARDIS, the only sound that signaled the projectile's arrival was a faint boom and a distant rumble. Clara looked at the door dubiously. "Doctor?" she ventured.

"Don't worry," the Doctor answered as he straightened his coat and strode forward towards the TARDIS exit. "It's just saying hello."

Outside the TARDIS, relative peace had returned quicker than the Doctor had expected. Except for a few disgruntled trees and fleeing wildlife, silence had returned to the glen. Either they had landed in the most rural spot in 21st century Earth, or this flying object was much smaller than the Doctor had thought.

Clara emerged from the TARDIS after him, at a more cautious speed, and saw that the Doctor had already begun to search for the crash site. His head was turned to the sky as he scanned the tops of the trees for smoke.

She twisted the scarf she had snagged from the railing around her neck in agitation. Why was he wasting time staring and looking and doing all the other boring things humans do to search for answers, instead of just using the sonic screwdriver in his back pocket? Clara knew it was there. She'd tried to pick-pocket him once just to see if he'd notice its disappearance. The Doctor hadn't been too pleased at her attempts, but it wasn't like he actually used the device. His previous form had treated his sonic screwdriver with reverence, like it was a fundamental part of his genetic make-up. This Doctor hadn't even touched his red-tipped screwdriver since he'd gotten it several weeks ago.

When the Doctor continued to ignore her, she coughed impatiently and said, "Are you telling me that you're looking for something that could have crash-landed anywhere, and you're don't even know what it looks like?"

"It was going too fast! And besides, where's the fun in that? Much better to be surprised." He turned to Clara and saw that she was still not convinced. "Oh, come on, Clara, where's your sense of adventure? Who knows what will discover. Wandering the wide-open universe, kicking up your shoes on every new trail…even you can't say no to that."

No, Clara sighed, she very well couldn't. She loved every part of universe, from the evilest planets to the most beautiful, intergalactic sunset. No matter what the Doctor looked like, he was still her ticket to the stars, and she wouldn't pass that up for the world.

She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps even apologize for her blunt behavior, when the Doctor raised his eyes and spied what he was looking for: a thin column of smoke dancing and weaving above the trees. "There you are." He said, the impish twinkle returning to his eyes as he abruptly turned from Clara and strode confidently into the trees.

Clara bit her lip and sighed. Cutting off meaningful conversations just as they started getting to the heart of the matter…yep, he was the Doctor alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to investigate the crash landing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you all that the next chapters will not be published as quickly as this one was. I've also put the chapter split in the wrong place, so this chapter will probably be the longest one. Hope you're enjoying yourself, though, and please review if you have time!

The Doctor emerged from the trees into another clearing, this one dominated by a large hole in the ground. The surrounding trees looked as if they had been blasted by hurricane-like winds, but none were uprooted. In fact, they looked relatively unscathed and were rustling merrily in the breeze, despite how much they tilted to one side. The Doctor glanced at the trees and noted how quickly the wildlife were returning to their normal routine, before he pushed his wonderings aside and focused on the object of his relentless pursuit. The "flying object" was nothing more than a meteorite, once a rather hefty size, now about the width of an armchair. It was silently smoldering in the bottom of the pit, but the Doctor took one look at it and knew that the projectile was not what it appeared to be. A meteorite was too simple an answer, too convenient, and made no sense. If this rock was a true space rock, the TARDIS shields would have deflected it, or at least altered her path or that of the asteroid's so their paths wouldn't meet in such a dangerous way. The TARDIS would never have allowed such an object to strike her without some reason behind it. He silently cursed his ship, knowing she had never steered him wrong before but reluctant to let the TARDIS do things like this just out of curiosity. She could have been seriously damaged.

Or maybe it was just a meteorite, and there was nothing to worry about. The Doctor had been wrong before, though he hated to admit it. Maybe they could just call the nearest museum and have the scientists and astronomers deal with it.

Only one way to find out, the Doctor supposed.

He stepped to the edge of the hole and began to work his way down its sides, kicking aside loose stones and roots as he did so. Behind him, Clara had attempted to follow him, but she nearly lost her footing on the first step. She retreated back to the edge of the hole and hoped the Doctor didn't plan on staying long. A cold wind was picking up.

The Doctor was too focused on the rock in front of him to notice his absent companion. Up close, it barely matched the Doctor in height. He placed his hand on its surface, cautiously at first, and then with more pressure as it became clear that the rock was actually quite cool.

"See this, Clara?" He called to her without turning, "Giant space rock hurls through Earth's atmosphere, and it's cool to the touch." The Doctor ran his hand over the surface of the meteorite. "Remarkable," he murmured, before he began using both hands to rub the rock and knock on its surface in various places.

Clara had heard the Doctor, but she doubted she would get a full explanation any time soon. She brushed a stray hair from her eyes and shouted down to him, "Tell me when you've finished, will you?"

The Doctor turned up at the sound of her voice, and seemed surprised that his companion was so far away. "Still up there, are you? Decided that adventure just isn't your thing today? Come on, a little dirt never hurt anyone!"

"I'm keeping a lookout!" Clara replied, glancing at the trees, but even she could hear how lame her excuse sounded. She watched the Time Lord shake his head and turn back to the meteorite, and she exhaled loudly in exasperation.

"Yes, yes, of course, sorry," The Doctor murmured to himself as he continued to knock around the circumference of the rock. "I should have remembered how dangerous Earth can be."

Then one of his knocks seemed to hit a sweet spot and a hollow sound rang in the Doctor's ears. He grinned and tapped the rock in the same spot again, just to hear the sound. "Found you."

He quickly took a small knife and a glass dish out of his limitless coat pockets. While Clara craned her neck from above the hole to see what he was doing, the Doctor scraped off a portion of the meteorite into the dish. He smiled down at his new sample, and then began the trek back up the sides of the hole.

"What did you find?" Clara asked as soon as the Doctor reached the edge of the pit. She had assumed that the meteorite was just a space rock and of no consequence, but, as the Doctor continued to show her, appearances were not always as they seemed.

Much like the Doctor himself.

In response to her question, the Time Lord glanced up from the glass dish he was balancing in his hand and replied tersely, "Dirt." It was then that the Doctor realized how much harder it was to breath after such a climb. He was getting old. He knew for a fact that at least two regenerations ago he would have jumped up that dirt slide like it was nothing more than the curb of a street.

Clara blinked at empty space as the Doctor breezed past her on his way to the TARDIS. "Dirt?"

"Yes, dirt. Space dirt. If I can analyze this then we'll have a least some idea as to where it came from and what's inside the capsule."

"Capsule?" Clara asked him, but she was still speaking to the Doctor's back as he strode into the trees. She stumbled along after him. "Doctor, it's a meteorite, how can anything be inside?"

She heard the Doctor scoff as he answered her, with a slight edge of annoyance to his voice. "It's hollow, and if you had come down into the hole with me you wouldn't have to ask so many questions."

As the pair disappeared into the trees, frightening off the wildlife with their bickering, the meteorite trembled slightly. Suddenly, the hollow section the Doctor had inspected burst outwards, and a golden claw emerged from the rock, curling menacingly.

"So that's your plan?" Clara said, following the distant Doctor closely on his heels. In her haste to question him, Clara forgot to close the TARDIS doors. "Find a space rock, analyze dirt, and expect it to tell you the secrets of the universe?"

"Yes, actually, it is." The Doctor still refused to turn towards her, and it made Clara fume. Why did he have to be so single-minded sometimes? She opened her mouth again, but the Doctor suddenly turned and beat her to it. "You are not miss-happy today. Are you in the middle of your menstrual cycle?"

Clara gaped at him, stunned. She couldn't decide whether to slap the gray-haired Time Lord into his next regeneration or go back and retrieve the giant meteorite so she could throw it at him. By the time she could formulate a response, the Doctor had already returned to his task, whatever that was. "Some plan," she muttered, "You don't even know where we are!"

"Earth."

Was he asking for it? Clara wondered if he had ever been thoroughly slapped before, and if she should show him a demonstration. "But where on Earth, and when?" When the Doctor refused to even acknowledge her presence, she added, "I don't like not knowing."

"Me, neither." He poured the contents of the glass dish into a small tube attached to the TARDIS console. A small yellow light began to blink in steadily, and Clara heard the TARDIS thrum as she began analyzing the dirt sample.

"Then find out!"

"What do you think I'm doing, then, eh?" The Doctor snapped, finally whipping around and shooting Clara a pointed glare. She hated that glare. It looked like a cartoon gone wrong. "Clara, a space rock just crashed into your home planet and you're obsessing about the where and when? It doesn't matter! This capsule could be devastating to the time stream whether it lands in 5 billion B.C. North America or 6-0-apple-12 A.D. But in answer to your bloody questions, this rock fell to Earth at exactly 1:39 in the PM with 50 seconds to spare. Its longitude and latitude are 54.5° N, 2° W, in that order. Just a few kilometers from Berwick-Upon-Tweed. The year, you ask? Why, lucky you, it's only the 18th century. And on a Sunday, too! Blasted Sundays. I've never liked them, they're too dull."

Clara had kept silent during the Doctor's tirade, and she once again berated herself for not being sensitive enough. When he finished, she could only respond with, "Not so dull if you get a rock capsule out of it." The Doctor didn't laugh, though, and he went back to his work. If staring at a monitor waiting for it to beep could be called work.

She bit her lip and sighed, a thought suddenly occurring to her. She should have thought of this possibility sooner, but then again, her mind wasn't always on that topic like the Doctor's was. Ever since that incident with his past regenerations…

"Doctor?" Clara ventured, "You're not thinking that that rock's from Gallifrey, are you?"

The Doctor froze, as if he didn't dare to breathe. Finally, he hung his head. "And if I do?" he said, "Is that such a terrible thing to hope for?"

Clara couldn't recall another time when the Doctor switched so fast between an angry demon to an old man. She lowered her eyes and leaned back against the railing. "No, no, I want that to be true as much as you do." She wasn't lying about that. If Gallifrey came back, then the Doctor would finally be happy. And if he was happy, perhaps the whole universe could be happy, too. "But…we've been so hopeful before. I just don't want you to get your hopes up too much. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I don't think I can get any more hurt than I already am." The Doctor turned towards Clara and leaned against the TARDIS consul, the little light blinking in a steady rhythm. "I'm tired, Clara. I've been ready to sleep for so many regenerations now, it's a wonder I haven't ended it all myself. But I always thought, one more adventure. One more trip, and I'll feel complete. And now Gallifrey has returned, and I begin to wonder if maybe this…if this will be my final adventure. My grand finale. My destiny, as it were." He scoffed at the notion. "After I find the Time Lords, my people, maybe I can have resolution. Perhaps then I can rest. So yeah, maybe once in a while, I can wish—"

He was cut off by a strange, gurgling noise, like that of a bird. The Doctor and Clara froze and looked around, trying to pin-point the source of the sound. Then the Doctor saw the door.

"Clara," he said slowly, "did you forget to close the door?"

Her gulp was audible even through her fear, and she absently wondered if the Doctor could hear her pounding heart. "Yes."

The Doctor quickly jumped to the door and clicked it shut, and then turned back towards Clara. They stood completely still, and were finally rewarded with another bird-like cry that came from underneath the TARDIS consul. He raised a finger to his lips towards Clara, and slowly climbed off the walkway and to the floor below. Just as Clara made to follow him, there was the sound of something snapping and the entire ship was plunged in darkness. She resisted the urge to call out to the Doctor, but was fearful of his safety as well as her own. The darkness seemed to amplify the sounds of crunching and guttural croaks that came from below her feet.

She heard the Doctor's voice from below say, "Who are you?"

The only response was silence. Clara tensed in preparation to take a step forward, when suddenly she heard the whirr of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. Finally! She mentally cheered at the sight of the little red dot, before the lights blazed to life and temporarily blinded Clara. Below her she heard a bird screech and the Doctor's shout of surprise.

She jumped back as something struck the grating and was stunned at what she saw. The Doctor was being pinned to the floor grating by what appeared to be a large, golden bird. Then it flapped its wings and she realized that it had four legs instead of two. And the strangest thing was, the creature didn't seem to be attacking the Doctor. It was licking him.

"Doctor!" Clara yelled, and the creature looked up. Its head was defiantly that of an eagle, except golden in color and attached to a feline body. With the creature distracted, the Doctor was able to push it off him and stand. He looked down at himself and scowled, while Clara stifled a laugh. His black clothes were completely covered in golden fur. The Doctor stumbled closer to her and Clara hurried over to help brush off the golden hair off his velvet coat.

She glanced at the creature again and watched as it jumped around like an excited puppy. Now that she could see it fully, Clara saw that it was relatively the size of a golden retriever from Earth. It was completely golden in color, and had feathers on its front end and fur on the back. The front half was an eagle, and the back was, perhaps, a lion? Its wickedly sharp claws reflected the light from the TARDIS and clattered against the grating loudly.

"Doctor, are you alright?" Clara asked, turning her attention back to the Doctor, "What is that thing?"

"This, Clara, is what humans might call a griffin. Intergalactic travelers know them by their more formal name, gryphes de stellis, or "griffin of the stars". My people knew them by a much more suitable title: pests. They're a species space hitchhikers, and if I am not mistaken this one just destroyed our helmic regulator."

Clara had no idea what that was, but she vaguely remembered the previous Doctor mentioning something like that. And about how important it was to the ship. "So that's bad, right?"

"Very," he muttered in reply, glaring at the griffin that was now prancing about his beloved ship. "Without it we have no way of controlling where or when we go in the TARDIS. We could end up anywhere or any-when, and it would be this fool of a creature's fault." The griffin didn't seem to hear the insult, but when it saw that both humans were watching it closely, it cawed loudly and tilted its head.

Clara would have called its lopsided grin and dangling tongue cute and very dog-like had the situation been less dire. "Well, what'd it do that for?"

"Because these hitchhikers always have a certain destination in mind. Those meteorite capsules are a one-way ride. If they want to get anywhere else, they'll have to snag someone's ship and use its navigation system to their advantage."

She stared at the Doctor, barely believing what she was hearing. "This bird thing, this griffin, was inside the space rock."

"Ready and waiting." He rocked back on his heels and watched their new space pest approach them, tail waving in the air.

Clara shook her head and sighed, leaning against the railing before she asked, "But why would it do all that? Why didn't it, I don't know, ask? I'm sure we could have taken it anywhere it needed to go."

The griffin now sat in between the Doctor and Clara, looking up at both of them eagerly. It was so proud of itself, and seemed to expect some kind of treat from them, as payment for his kind services. "Probably thought it could pilot the TARDIS better than I can," the Time Lord said, staring down at the beast. "Never said they were smart."

At the last remark the griffin suddenly hissed and crouched low, advancing towards the Doctor as if to spring. Clara reacted on instinct. She grabbed the only weapon close at hand, her scarf, and shook it at the griffin's back. "Stop it! Get away from him!" The griffin turned towards the new voice, but was distracted by something new. When Clara had torn off her scarf, it had caused her necklace to swing out and catch the light. As soon as the beast saw the glimmer of gold, a look of glee passed over its eyes. It screeched in triumph and launched itself at Clara's neck.

"Hey! Get off her!" the Doctor shouted, but the griffin had pinned Clara to the grating and wasn't moving an inch. Finally he shoved his hand into his pocket and called, "Here, boy, gold!"

The creature twisted around at the mention of the precious metal, and watched in rap attention as the Doctor tossed a handful of spinning, glittering golden coins across the galley. The griffin screeched again and flew towards the coins as they sunk through the grating, completely forgetting about the necklace.

The Doctor hurried over to Clara and helped her up. "Are you hurt?"

"Just scratched," she answered, wincing at the slight pain in her back from connecting with the hard floor. She'll have a bruise there tomorrow, for sure. Then again, Clara was thankful she had only light scratches on her neck and nothing more. "What was that for?"

"Your necklace," the Doctor said. He quickly pulled it over her head and shoved it into one of his coat pockets. "Griffins are a bit obsessed with g-o-l-d, or any other kind of precious metal or stone. They would use it for courtship rituals and for building their nests. But they can get a bit…wild when they see anything shiny. Got any more jewelry on you?"

"Yeah, here." Clara quickly slipped off her bangles and unpinned her earrings, which the Doctor put into one of his many coat pockets. She absently wondered if she'd ever see them again. "Now what?"

The Doctor and Clara turned back to the griffin, which had somehow retrieved all the coins and was attempting to create a small nest in between the TARDIS central column and the consul controls. "We wait," the Doctor said, gritting his teeth on the words as he said them. No regeneration of his ever liked to just wait. "They may look like clueless puppies, but griffins actually do have a vast knowledge of Space and Time. When the griffin's ready to leave, we'll leave."

"Even without the helmic regulator thing?"

"Even then. Griffins are terrific pests, because they've been doing the same thing for all of time. It'll have some notion of how to pilot the TARDIS to where it wants to go." The Doctor stared back at the griffin and sighed as the space creature curled up for a nap in its makeshift nest. "Maybe it isn't planning on going far."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the griffin sleeps, the Doctor and Clara have some things to discuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally back to my laptop, so that means loads of more chapters. The writing all finished, so now it's time for me to type all these bad boys up. Be thinking about an ending for this as you read. I still haven't decided what I'll do and any ideas would be greatly appreciated.

They had lingered in the console room to see if the griffin would wake up, but the creature was well and truly asleep in his makeshift nest. It was Clara's growling stomach that drove her and the Doctor to head deeper into the ship for a meal.

Clara walked into the TARDIS kitchen and sighed in relief. At least here, things looked a little closer to normal. White tiled walls and floors gleamed like someone had recently waxed them, and the modern appliances were practically part of the wall itself. A part of Clara missed the previous Doctor's stylized kitchen, with alien appliances that seemed to have no real purpose, and the splashes of color and design that changed spots daily. But another part liked having the only color in the room be a tea stain she'd made earlier that morning. The starkness created a kitchen that looked more refined, much like the new Doctor standing beside her.

The Time Lord didn't hesitate as he moved forward and sat himself down at the table in the middle of the room, where two steaming plates of pasta now sat. It had become a kind of routine to find a TARDIS-cooked dish waiting for them at most every meal. The Doctor had only dabbled in outlandish recipes as his previous regeneration, and now he didn't cook at all. Clara was still a little disappointed by this. He looked like someone who might know his way around a kitchen.

Their pasta had some kind of space fish and a hint of spice, Clara's favorite in the endless menu of the TARDIS, but she was too busy worrying about the Doctor to enjoy it fully. He was in one of his moods again, staring into empty space and barely acknowledging his food.

When the silence threatened to stretch on for more than ten minutes, Clara pushed her half-eaten pasta aside and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Doctor," she said to him, "what is it?"

He turned towards her, a look of innocent confusion on his face, and she sighed. Like her first Doctor, this one only seemed to respond to questions capable of steam rolling him into the ground. "Something's on your mind. If you tell me what it is, maybe I can help." He tried to look away, but Clara deliberately caught his eye again. "Does it have something to do with the griffin creature?"

The Doctor huffed. "Clara, my giant brain could be thinking a million different thoughts each second." When she eyed him, he gave in. "But yes, the gryphes de stellis is what is foremost in my mind."

Clara nodded, and she recalled how peaceful the griffin had looked as it had slept next to the warmth of the central column of the console. She wondered if it was awake yet. "Mine, too. You can repair the helmic regulator, right? We won't be stuck for good?"

"Of course I can fix it. Could do my repairs right now and be done with the whole bloody mess," the Doctor answered. He pulled a handful of scrap metal out from one of his coat pockets and began to tinker with them.

Clara sat back in her chair in astonishment. "Then what are you waiting for?" she asked him. "The griffin could take us anywhere. What if it leaves us on some hostile planet?"

The Doctor stopped tinkering and set the newly-made wind-up toy bird on the table. He said, "But that's just it, Clara. It could take us anywhere." He gently wound the bird and let it go. They watched as it fluttered around their heads in erratic circles, before gliding into the Doctor's hands.

"The griffins are as ancient a race as the Time Lords," the last of the Time Lords began. "They used to migrate all over the universe, and influenced countless civilizations along the way. One visit to the Middle East on Earth in the year 3500 BC was all it took for the griffins to become a mythical legend and a popular heraldic symbol."

"Kind of like you and the TARDIS," Clara added.

The Doctor chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you're right." But his face instantly sobered as he recalled one of his happier childhood memories. "I remember lying on my back in Gallifreyen grass, skipping my lessons so I could watch them fly by." He looked off to the side as he absently stroked the toy bird's head. "Gallifrey was like their home base back then. The suns would turn the red sky the color of crimson blood, and a whole flock of them would rise up. Squawking worse than crows, the suns' light making their claws and golden feathers shine…as a kid, I thought it was the most beautiful sight in the universe." He laughed once, a short and soft "ha". "Still do, actually."

Clara smiled as she imagined a child-sized Doctor staring in awe as golden birds took to the sky and space. She wondered if their path across the stars inspired the Doctor to forge his own. "But this griffin came in a rock capsule," she pointed out, "Why didn't it come with its flock?"

"I don't know. Some griffins were known to be cast out of the group if they broke one of their many moral codes. Their version of exile. Others might want to leave so they can start their own flock somewhere else, but that's the least likely. It would have been with its mate. Or maybe this griffin just got lost." The Doctor still didn't look at her. "I'm betting on the latter. Because anyone who's lost usually wishes to be found."

Clara felt the blood drain from her face. "You're not…you don't think…"

The Doctor suddenly leaned forward until he was practically hovering over the table. "But what if, Clara, what if? If this griffin wanted to find its flock again, the best starting point would be at home base. And that home base is Gallifrey! If we let the griffin have its way, just for one trip, it could take us right to the Citadel of the Time Lords!"

"But what if it doesn't?" Clara reluctantly added. Dashing the hopes of the Time Lord in front of her was the last thing she wanted to do, but they'd been down this road so many times before… "What if the griffin decides to go to some haven for griffins that isn't Gallifrey?"

Before the Doctor could answer, the whole ship suddenly lurched and tilted, causing their lunch plates to fall to the floor and shatter. The screech of a bird echoed off the walls of the TARDIS hallways.

"It's awake," the Doctor muttered. He stuffed his toy bird into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen, Clara hard on his heels.

They reached the console room just as the TARDIS gave another sickening lurch. Clara reached out a hand to the railing to steady herself, but she yelped and jumped back in surprise. The metal was burning up with searing heat.

"The coolant, you pest, you forgot the coolant!" Clara looked up to see that the Doctor was shouting insults at the golden creature and turning dials simultaneously. In an instant, the temperature in the TARDIS returned to its normal levels.

The griffin, however, squawked back indignantly and continued to flap around the blue column, which hummed and pulsed as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary. With each pass the bird would flip or spin a seemingly random device to send the TARDIS, and its passengers, reeling.

"Slow down!" the Doctor bellowed. The griffin swept past him and slammed a lever, which the exasperated Time Lord deftly shoved back into place. Clara would have called the griffins meddling and the Doctor's reactions comical if she hadn't been in danger of dying. He continued to shout, "And watch those stabilizers! I am not losing my spectacular ship to some thick headed space rat like you!"

Shouldn't they be getting along better than this, since they're both from Gallifrey? Clara wondered. Instead of flying the TARDIS together, as a team, they were squabbling like siblings.

Good thing Clara had some knowledge in that particular area.

"Hey!" she shouted. The Doctor and the griffin froze where they were and stared at her. Clara gripped the railing again as the TADIS listed to the left. "Stop fighting and land so we don't get ourselves killed! The griffin controls navigation," Or what's left of it, she added silently, "and the Doctor handles the stabilizers. Is that clear?"

There was no response from the time-and-space travelers, but then again, she hadn't expected there to be any. With a begrudging glance, and a throaty growl from the hijacker, the Doctor and the griffin resumed their irregular dance. This time, at a much calmer pace.

Not two minutes later, the TARDIS landed with a sigh and the pilots stilled. The Doctor reached for the monitor so he could check the surrounding area, but the griffin leapt in front of the screen. It hissed and flicked its head towards the door. The creature's message was clear: the only way to know where they'd landed was to walk through those doors.

Clara thought the Doctor might drive off the creature, but he maintained a casual appearance and stood up slowly.

"Well, Clara," the last child of Gallifrey said as he straightened his black velvet coat, "Shall we see what remains of the Time Lords?"

Clara nodded, but it felt like her ribs were suffocating her insides. She glanced at the cheerful griffin that sat in front of the monitor, and desperately hoped it had taken them to the right place. How many more disappointments could one man face?

The Doctor put his hands on the doors.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to experience this chapter fully, then please take a moment before you read to open a new tab and go to YouTube. Search for the video called "Doctor Who Soundtrack – This is Gallifrey: Our Childhood, Our Home". It's your decision to listen to the entire song now, or wait until I tell you to. I don't own the song in any way, but it's beautiful and was the inspiration for this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be focusing on this story for now, so I can finish it before August 23rd and Season 8.

Clara's first reaction was disappointment, as she stepped out of the TARDIS and saw no enormous city towering above them.

Then she looked down, and her second reaction was one of awe.

They had landed on the edge of a large cliff that overlooked a paradise. Vast mountain ranges ringed a bowl-shaped valley that was coated in a thick blanket of trees. Waterfalls sparkled on the distant cliffs, and the bold green color of the foliage gave the impression of a tropical rainforest. And in the distance, a small sun was touching the horizon, tinging the green sky with an orange glow. Though the passing wind was the only noise, Clara bet that there were probably hundreds of new species hidden below the leaves.

Or above, she mused, glancing upwards. A group of blue birds were dancing among flat, golden clouds, without a reason or care in the world. But what caught Clara's eye was the horizon, where brief flashes of movement briefly interrupted the sun's light. Was something out there? Whatever it was, it must be rather large.

Whether or not this was Gallifrey, the planet's view was one of the most beautiful sights Clara had ever seen. Everything was new and exciting, from the effortless tranquility to the faint smell of citrus in the breeze.

She turned to ask the Doctor if this was indeed Gallifrey, but his expression halted her in her tracks. He, too, was staring at the stunning vista, but his body looked so deflated, his eyes so void of hope…Clara wasn't sure what she should do. If she tried to touch him, take his hand, anything, would the Time Lord shatter like glass?

Clara was vaguely aware that the flashes of movement in front of the setting sun had stopped, but they seemed small compared to the man beside her. "Doctor?" She ventured, taking a step towards him. The Doctor took a deep breath, as if to calm himself, but that only increased Clara's worry for him. What had he said, about finding Gallifrey being his final destiny? Clara's knees shook as she imagined the possibility that the Doctor might throw himself off the cliff.

But then the griffin was there, trotting past the Time Lord with a happy twitch of its tail. It took a look at its surroundings, and then glanced back at the Doctor. The man didn't acknowledge the creature, but that only made the griffin more determined. It hopped onto a rock that hung over the cliff.

Then the griffin sat on its haunches, opened its beak, and began to sing.

[[Now, I invite you to go back to the video you opened earlier and listen to the griffin's song. If you just want to listen to what I imagine the griffin to be singing, start at 0:58 (there's a mini-intro to overlap with the end of the scene you just read – the real singing begins at 1:15) and ends around 1:40. I hope you will continue listening to this gorgeous composition, though, because the rest of the song overlays with everything you're about to read.]]

There were no words, or even any recognizable notes. But the song struck Clara in every fiber of her body. The beautiful and yet haunting melody made the entire experience surreal, and strangely calming. Each tone floated through Clara's mind, or maybe that was the TARDIS, who was singing a telepathic harmony to the audible melody.

What song was this? Clara wanted to ask, but the Doctor didn't seem to be in a state to answer. Tears were streaming down his face, briefly pooling in his deep-set wrinkles before dropping onto his velvet coat. And yet the griffin continued to sing, unaware of the effect its song had on the last of the Time Lords. Clara couldn't ignore the song's power, either. Soon her own eyes burned as she recalled her mother, her father, her gran, and everyone on Earth that she had inadvertently left behind. She'd always assumed that she would see them again. The TARDIS was a time machine, after all. But what if something happened, and her friends and family had no way of knowing that she'd never be coming back?

And what if she did survive? In theory, Clara could be home in time for tea, and no one would know she'd been gone. She could travel for years and years…and she would return home, with nothing changed. Except her, of course. Something told her that no excuse would explain to Artie and Angie why she had suddenly aged dramatically.

"Clara."

The Doctor's low voice startled her. She turned to him hesitantly as he said, "This was the song they sang."

"Who sang it?"

"The Gallifreyen gryphes de stellis. As the sun set, the star griffins would take to the skies and sing this song. An emissary from another planet heard it and jokingly called it the 'Song of Gallifrey'. The name stuck in the end." He was staring at the singing creature with wonder in his eyes. "Some claimed that the one good thing the griffins gave Gallifrey was the planet's song. I suppose they were right."

As the griffin's melody reached a crescendo, Clara became aware of the sound of wing beats behind her. She turned, and suddenly her vision was filled with gold. Hundreds of griffins were flying above their heads, their wings and claws outshining the sun. They dove over the cliff, screeching on the way down, and then leveled out to glide above the valley floor. She watched them head for the small group of blue birds, which had barely enough time to scatter before the griffin hoard careened through them.

The griffin in front of the Doctor and Clara called out to the flock, but only a handful replied. On the next pass over their heads, two large griffins flew down to meet with the trio, while the rest of the creatures seemed to spit and hiss derisively.

So the flock considered the griffin beside them to be an outcast. Clara glanced at their guide to see if it had been offended, but it was focused intently on the two griffins approaching them.

And rightly so. These griffins were more than twice as big as the Doctor and Clara's little guide, perhaps a full two heads taller than the Doctor. They carried themselves with the authority of leaders, but they seemed to share that power equally between them.

"The dual leaders of this flock," the Doctor whispered to her. "Be respectful and keep your head down until you are instructed to do otherwise. The gryphes de stellis are perhaps the proudest race in the universe."

Clara nodded and bowed her head low, mirroring the Doctor's hunched position. It took all of her self-control to keep still when the griffins' talons appeared in her limited field of vision.

Their smaller griffin approached the leaders in a submissive position, and remained that way until the griffins began to speak. If such a sound could be considered speaking, that is. They sounded like they were screeching at each other like parrots, with less volume and "words" that were similar to the lyrics of a song. Clara stared resolutely at her boots, refusing to flinch even when one of the griffins flapped its wings and sent a gust of wind her way.

Finally, when the "argument" seemed to reach a conclusion, Clara felt something soft rest against the top of her head. Were those feathers tickling her temple? The force on top of her hair must be the griffin's head.

Welcome, human, a male voice said into her mind. This time Clara did flinch. The Doctor hadn't told her griffins were able to talk with their mind! Why hadn't the griffin who had hijacked them done the same? What do they call you?

She didn't know much about telepathy, so Clara settled for the speech she knew best. "Clara, sir," she said out loud, "Clara Oswald."

A pause, and the griffin leader's head lifted, to be replaced by another. These feathers were much softer, and their weight much lighter.

Welcome, Clara, to New Gallifrey, a different voice stated, this one female. A male and a female, Clara mused. Were they a mated pair?

Next to her, the Doctor practically growled, "There is no such thing as 'New Gallifrey'." Clara couldn't see his face, but she guessed that the Time Lord was giving the griffins his best glower.

There is now, the female voice replied. There was a brief pause, and then the weight was lifted from Clara's head. Ever so slightly, she looked up, to see that the two griffins were standing directly in front of them. The male was in front of the Doctor, and was covered in golden feathers on his front half, and fur of the same color on his rear end. It was like looking at their runt of a griffin in high definition. The tail was more proud and lion-like, the wings, that much more massive and awe-inspiring. His two front claws looked bigger than Clara's own head, and the muscles on his hind legs, so much like the legs of the lions of Earth, made her tremble in fear. This creature was more than capable of killing her, and his sharp, eagle eyes never let her forget it.

The female griffin that stood in front of Clara was only a touch smaller, but no less imposing. Differences between the two genders were few, but noticeable. Like how her ears curled up like spikes, instead of lying flat like her mate's. Or how her eyes made Clara feel comforted and protected, instead of threatened. Clara wondered if every mother in the universe was capable of giving off that feeling.

Then male griffin spoke, out loud and in halted English, "Would you—like—to see?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are asked and answers are sought. But it seems like the Doctor and his thoughts will forever remain a mystery…

Moment later, Clara was high in the air on the back of an enormous female griffin.

"Woohoo!" she screamed. Her griffin screeched in response, and continued to flap her enormous wings steadily as she danced among the updrafts and slipstreams.

On their right was the comparatively-tiny griffin that had hijacked the TARDIS. It was enjoying itself immensely, that much Clara could see, and was making no attempt to join the main flock. In fact, whenever the rest of the griffins came close, their little criminal would stay so close to Clara's griffin their wings would touch.

And on her left was the Doctor, riding the male griffin leader. Their movements were much less erratic than Clara and the female's flight, a sign that perhaps both aliens were older than they looked. Whenever Clara glanced at the Doctor, she would see awe and amazement in his eyes. Maybe even a tear or two. And who could blame him? He'd probably been dreaming of flight ever since he'd been a boy, when he had first watched the gryphes de stellis take to the air for the first time. There was also a persistent look of concentration on his face, which puzzled Clara at first, until she remembered that these griffins were telepaths. The Doctor and the male leader were probably engaged in some kind of intense, nonverbal debate.

Clara only wondered at the Doctor's ever-changing attitude for a short while, before her own enjoyment caught up with her. Here she was, resident babysitter of Great Britain, galaxies away from home and riding a griffin from outer space! With each new destination, Clara could feel her personal universe get a little bit bigger, and a little bit better.

Well, Clara thought, maybe a lot better.

She leaned forward as the female leader began to climb the wind currents again. "So, you're all telepaths?"

She felt the female griffin shake underneath her, like she was chuckling. Yes, child. It is tactile telepathy, more commonly known as touch telepathy. All Time Lords were capable of it, and those of us griffins who were skilled enough learned it from them. Now that Gallifrey is gone, my mate and I are the last griffins who continue to use such a primitive form of communication.

"'Touch telepathy', huh?" Could the Doctor really communicate with his mind? She'd never seen him use something like that, but then again, Clara supposed that she really didn't know much about Time Lords at all. The Doctor's previous lives were numerous, and were probably full of things Clara could never dream of. "Have you and the Doctor already met?"

Not in this life, and perhaps never again.

"He might come back," Clara said, "It's so beautiful here, and you're creatures from Gallifrey! Why wouldn't he want to be near the last living survivors of his home planet?" Besides the TARDIS, Clara added silently.

The griffin's chest rumbled again. Oh, child. Tell me: what do you know of the Time War?

"I know that it was the last war between the Daleks and the Time Lords." Clara absently watched the smaller griffin do loop-di-loops beside them. "The Doctor had destroyed Gallifrey and two entire species. He was the only survivor." The griffin next to them saw Clara watching it and crowed triumphantly. "But the Doctor, with the help of all of his previous regenerations, went back in time and rewrote history. As I understand it, they put Gallifrey into a time lock. And then those same Gallifreyens gave the Doctor more regenerations through a crack in time and space, saving him from death. Now the Doctor is determined to find Gallifrey, however he can."

And have you had any luck?

Clara looked down at her fingers, which had started rubbing the female griffin's feathers on their own accord. "Well, no, not yet. That's why the Doctor didn't stop this little griffin from directing the TARDIS. He was convinced that the griffin would lead us to its home planet, which we assumed was Gallifrey. We were half right, in a way. But the Doctor—we're not giving up! Gallifrey is out there, somewhere. We just haven't looked in the right places yet."

The female leader paused before she continued. The Doctor is more than just one man. The face you see him with today is one of many, with another personality to add to a growing list. Our species, mere travelers through space, have been lucky enough to have seen each of his faces in turn.

The Grandfather…Clara bit back a gasp as a mental image flared into her mind. She saw an old, white-haired man standing outside a junkyard, laughing with a younger girl.

The Clown…A slightly younger man was playing a recorder and wandering through a maze of enormous bookshelves.

The Dandy…Another grey-haired man was driving with tall woman in a yellow car from the 20th century.

The Wanderer…A young man with wild hair and an outrageous scarf was staring anxiously into a glass tube, where the body of a woman lay.

The Peace-maker...Another man, the youngest she'd seen yet, was sporting a croquet outfit and a stick of celery. He was wandering through a forest while arguing with the woman beside him.

The Unknown...Another man, blond and wearing a rainbow-colored coat, appeared to be sitting trial in front of many oddly-dressed men.

The Professor…A man wearing question marks and carrying a matching umbrella was walking away, arm in arm with a young girl in a biker jacket.

The Gentleman…A man with an unreadable face and wearing an old-fashioned suit was shouting at a mirror, "Who am I?"

The Warrior…Clara recognized this man, with his grey hair and haggard beard. He was standing in the dirty barn again, his hand poised over the glowing red button.

The Survivor…The next man was not the one she had been expecting. This new man was struggling against the grip of several shop window dummies. He disappeared just as a blond woman swung towards him on a rope.

The Lover…Clara blushed as the handsome Doctor appeared, the same one who had kissed her hand. Except this time, she saw him on the TARDIS hugging the blond girl Clara had seen earlier. Around him were a whole group of people, smiling, laughing, and hugging each other like a proper family.

The Madman…She couldn't help it. When the face of her previous Doctor, her Doctor, appeared before her, Clara let a small sob escape her throat. Here he was, bouncing off the walls with his usual spunk, only Clara wasn't with him. This earlier Doctor was leading along a red-haired woman and another man through a city that looked suspiciously like Renaissance-era Venice.

And now, the Hopeful. The images faded and Clara was once again staring at a green sky. The sun was finally disappearing below the distant mountains, making the sky grow dark. It was then that she realized that her griffin had landed on the same cliff as the TARDIS.

This man you see now is a man born out of hope. The female griffin explained. Beside them, the small, hijacking griffin was rolling around in the dirt, completely unaware that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. But hope is a frail thing. So powerful, and yet, so small and fleeting. You say the Doctor is desperate to find Gallifrey? His hope is waning. This disappointment could be his last.

"No!" Clara insisted. When she saw the Doctor and his griffin landing on the other side of the cliff, she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Gallifrey is out there! We just have to keep looking!"

The griffin lowered herself to the ground, and Clara dismounted, but she kept a hand on the female's shoulder so the leader could reply. You're determined, or persistent. Or maybe just stubborn.

"Yeah, that's hours of babysitting for you."

Perhaps that is what is needed, then? The female leader looked at Clara and tilted her head in curiosity. Maybe you're what the Doctor needs to continue his search.

Clara bit her lip. Something about the griffin's tone of voice…did she know more than she let on? "So, is Gallifrey really out there? Will we ever find it?"

Before the griffin could reply, the Doctor came up behind Clara and asked, "Nice flight?"

The female leader showed no sign of replying while in the Doctor's presence, so Clara reluctantly took her hand away from the griffin's shoulder. "Yeah, it was incredible. Had a nice chat, too."

"Ah, touch telepathy." He rubbed his temple. "Haven't met someone else with that ability in…ages, it seems."

At first the Doctor's expression looked mournful, but then the little hijacker appeared, and his plastered smile returned. "Hello there, little one. Are you all alone, too?"

So the Doctor had witnessed how the other griffins treated the runt of the litter. Was this a case of "it takes one to know one"?

The griffin nodded and its head and tail drooped low. Before Clara could react to the quick change in mood, the Doctor had sat down on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling over a sheer drop. He patted the ground next to him. "Come on, join the loners. Night's coming on fast and you'll get chilled."

The griffin perked its ears up and jumped to the edge of the cliff. In a way Clara could only describe as cute, the golden-retriever-sized creature curled up like a cat against the Doctor's side and promptly fell asleep.

The last Time Lord in existence glanced down at his new friend, and then looked back at Clara. "You want to join the loners, too?"

Clara wasn't sure if she would consider herself a loner, but she nodded and sat on the other side of the Doctor as quietly as she could. As the sun disappeared completely and the stars came out, Clara glanced at the alien beside her. The Doctor's face was unreadable, and she could only guess what was going on inside that big head of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for an ending, readers! I'm being serious here. I don't want to be a disappointment, so please help me in ending this story. All ideas welcome, whether they end in the canon 'verse or in an AU. (Although, by now, I'm pretty sure I've already crossed into AU territory.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does the Doctor think of "New Gallifrey"?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I may have cut it ridiculously close, but here's the last chapter, a day before my deadline. I had considered making this story longer, but then real life happened. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

The Doctor remained silent as they both watched the sun go down. Stars were appearing all across the sky, and Clara wondered whether this planet had a moon. But she was reluctant to break the silence by asking the Doctor such a random question. Since when was she reluctant to ask the Doctor anything?

All at once Clara realized that they were alone. There was the Doctor and the small griffin on her right, and the TARDIS behind them, but that was it. The griffin flock had vanished into the coming night, and their dual leaders with them.

"You're thinking too loud," the Doctor abruptly stated.

Clara turned to him, but he continued to stare at the horizon. "You're one to talk," she retorted. They lapsed into silence again, neither sure what they should say. Clara spoke up. "Two thousand years, you said. That's a long time for someone to be alive."

"Oh, age is just a number." The sleeping griffin growled in its sleep and the Doctor began to stroke its head like it was a house cat. "I've met men and women who've lived a lifetime in a single day. Just as I've met those who have thrown away their entire life just to have a chance at greatness."

In the back of her mind, Clara wondered if he was referencing his companions, or maybe just a companion in particular. "You used to talk a mile a minute, and now you hardly speak. And even when you did talk it wasn't like you actually said anything."

"Wasted words, all of them. So many thrown away. Eventually you just run out."

"Is that it? That's your excuse?" Clara tried not to let her irritation show, she really did. But the Doctor and his ridiculous attitude were getting on her nerves. "Perhaps instead of saying something cryptic you could tell me something true. Something new about yourself that I would never be able to guess. Like you being a touch telepath?"

The Doctor finally looked at her. "How did you—"

"Would have been nice to know that beforehand," Clara said. "As it is, I had to learn that from a space griffin. And before that, regeneration? The number of said regenerations? Had to learn that all from an outside source."

He scoffed and looked down at the griffin, which had shifted itself so it was almost on top of the Doctor's lap, its neck bent back to allow the Time Lord's hand access. "Telepaths, indeed," the Doctor muttered. "What else have they told you, hm? My favorite color? My birthday? My own name?"

Clara ignored him. "And now you won't even tell me what you're thinking!"

"You didn't ask."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and it was the Doctor's turn to look away. "You wouldn't have answered," Clara said. "We're on a planet called New Gallifrey. Ancient griffins are flying around your head. And you look like a man in mourning. Can't you at least say something about that?"

There was a long pause following her words, and Clara turned away, disappointed that the Doctor couldn't even open up to her for a few seconds. She heard the griffin make a noise that sounded like a satisfied purr.

Then, out of nowhere, the Doctor spoke. "I…I'm not very good at this kind of thing. Every one of my forms have managed to keep the words that really matter at bay. Each regeneration had to have different ways of defending themselves."

"Defending themselves?" Clara asked. "From what?"

"From hurt." The Doctor finally stopped scratching the griffin's neck and moved on to its ears. "I don't know how much the female leader told you, but I've had many companions in my life span. Some leave because they want to, others leave because they must, and still others never wanted to leave in the first place."

His eyes grew distant and somber as he watched the last rays of sunlight disappear, coating his face in darkness. Now Clara could only see him as a silhouette against the night sky. He continued. "But they stay with me. All of them. Even when I've changed my face, or travel with someone else for a time. Opening up, as you call it…it just doesn't come naturally."

"So what's changed?"

The Doctor inhaled deeply, and exhaled on a long sigh. "A lot of things. But this place, this 'New Gallifrey', is one of them. I'm on a quest for my Gallifrey, my home, and what do I find instead? A replica. A reenactment. An attempt at something so colossal in size and scope it should never be allowed to happen again."

"But is that such a bad thing?" Clara asked him. "Yes, Gallifrey was your home. But the griffins called it home, too, and now they're here, happy."

"How can they be happy? How can they expect me to be happy for them, for me, for the whole bloody universe that this place exists?" The Doctor was breaking down now, staring into his lap and gripping the edge of the cliff. The hijacker on his pant leg shifted slightly at the increase in tension but did not wake up. "It's not Gallifrey. It never will be. Gallifrey is out there. I know because I bloody well put it there. How can they forget their home so easily?"

Clara wanted to pull away, to leave him to his own devices, but she found that she couldn't. She had to keep pressing him, even though it seemed like the Time Lord was about to break at any moment. "Doctor, they didn't forget. Maybe…maybe this is their way of moving forward."

The Doctor swung his head and stared at her, a sickly look in his eyes. Clara swallowed before continuing. "The griffins weren't forgetting their old home when they came here. They weren't trying to replicate it by calling it New Gallifrey. Don't you see? The griffins were trying to honor it, and to remind themselves and others of their ancestry. Then, I suppose, they came to a crossroad in the stages of grief. Do they lament Gallifrey's passing, or move forward and start a new life here? They chose the latter path, Doctor. Which did you choose?"

He opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. When the Doctor did speak, his voice was heavy with guilt and pain. "I…Clara, I didn't choose. There was never a choice. I destroyed Gallifrey and I will forever walk in the shadows of that grief." Then he added, in a voice so distant Clara didn't know if he had meant for her to hear it, "It's not fair. Why should they be allowed to forget? Even my previous form couldn't push away the nightmares completely. And now…these creatures can just continue? Move on?"

"Doctor…" Clara raised a tentative hand to the Doctor's shoulder. Though he turned away, he did not shrug her off. "Gallifrey will never be forgotten. It shouldn't be forgotten." She leaned forward so the last of the Time Lords was forced to look into Clara's eyes. "But you know what my grandmother said to me when my goldfish died, back when I was just a kid? She said that excessive grief was self-indulgent. Let the dead rest, she said, for the dead need their peace. Now, I don't know if I really believe in sprits and demons, but maybe she's got a point. Maybe it's time to move on."

The Doctor looked at her like she was a stranger, and then squeezed his eyes shut. To Clara, it looked like he was in the middle of a mental flashback. Was he seeing his childhood flash before his eyes? Was he seeing that big red button again? By the time the Doctor opened his eyes again, Clara was looking at him differently, too. Perhaps with a bit more sympathy and respect than before.

"This planet," the Doctor said, "is not Gallifrey."

"No, it's not."

"The sky is green, not orange, and there is one sun instead of two."

"Looks like it."

"And do you know what?"

"What?"

The Doctor gave Clara a small smile. It was thin and somewhat forced, but she was happy to see it all the same. "That's okay." He replied. "That's good."

Clara smiled. "You think so?"

"Yeah." Despite the small griffin's squeak of disapproval, the Doctor stood and helped Clara to her feet. They both glanced behind them and saw two silver moons rising, their combined glow bright enough to bathe the valley floor with faint light.

She glanced at the Time Lord beside her, and saw that his face was still mournful as he gazed at the twin moons. "Hey," she said, nudging him with her shoulder. "You gonna be okay?"

"Of course I will be. Takes more than a moon rise to pull me down." Then he glanced at Clara's raised eyebrow and he sighed. "It'll take time, Clara. Don't expect me to crack like an egg all at once." He smiled, a true smile this time. "But…thank you."

The runt of a griffin gave a little screech, and they glanced down to find it sitting next to the Doctor's feet. It was looking up at the Doctor with an expectant gaze, its head tilted in a canine way.

"And of course, a 'thank you' to you, too, you little pest," the Doctor cooed, rubbing the griffin's head affectionately. The creature crowed and purred in response to his words and his ministrations.

Clara looked down at the griffin and an idea struck her. "Doctor," she began, "this griffin doesn't really have a place within his flock anymore."

"No, it doesn't."

"So…" Clara bit her lip. "Could it come with us?"

The Doctor glanced up at her, and Clara was afraid he would say no. But then his gruff face brightened and he smiled in a way that very much resembled his previous regeneration. "Yes, I think this little griffin can."

The griffin screeched in triumph and, without warning, pounced on the Doctor. Clara burst into a fit of laughter as the creature began to lick the Doctor all over. The poor Time Lord, of course, could do nothing but laugh along with his companion. He marveled at his own laughter. How different it sounded compared to his old forms. But oh, that warm, fuzzy feeling he got was still the same!

Finally the griffin abandoned the Doctor to wind itself around Clara's legs in a very feline way. The Doctor took one glance at his dirtied coat and promptly decided to forget about it. Wasn't like he couldn't wash the golden fur off, anyway. "Well, our fuzzy beast has to have a name, you know," he said. "What do you have in mind for him?"

"Him?" The Doctor nodded, and Clara decided not to ask how he knew that. She looked down at the griffin, so adorable and yet, so ferocious. Suddenly she opened her mouth and said, "Theta."

The Doctor looked at her in surprise. "Theta? How in the universe did you come up with that name?"

"Oh, it just came to me." Clara wasn't sure where the name had come from, but once she said it, it just sounded so right. Theta felt like something powerful, but from the way the Doctor was looking at her, it was clear that the name held some sort of significance for him.

Then his face cleared and Clara was left to wonder on her own. "Theta, it is," the Doctor said, and the griffin named Theta crowed in approval.

The new team stepped into the TARDIS and gathered around the central console. Theta wasted no time in flapping around his new home, crawling up all of the supporting columns and bouncing off the walls in a burst of energy.

"So where to next?" Clara asked.

The Doctor looked from his dear companion and friend, to the new addition to the TARDIS team. He could still feel the memories of Gallifrey in the back of his mind, probing him to remember the Time War and Daleks and dying Time Lords, but it was faint. Not in a way that suggested that the Doctor's mind was becoming forgetful, just faint. Like another layer had been created over it. A new layer that was wide open, ready for new memories to be made.

"I was thinking the beaches of Hawaii in the early 14th century," the Doctor finally replied, resting his hand on one of the main levers. "Or maybe the planet Halvincora, a planet made entirely of gold." The griffin gurgled in anticipation upon hearing the precious metal mentioned.

Clara bounced lightly on her toes. "And, these trips," she said, "will they be…" She grinned. "For Gallifrey?"

"For Gallifrey," the Doctor replied, smiling. He pulled the lever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Depending on what people think of this story, I might just add a couple more adventures for my AU TARDIS team to experience. We'll see. For now, enjoy the season premiere tomorrow!


End file.
